Given the wonderful storm activity today, I figured a sonnet about clouds would be in order. There’s nothing quite as wonderful as a lightning storm. I even managed see a bolt hit the Sears Tower from about 15 miles away.
Vaporous beasts flow from the west
Inducing boldness, time to quest.
Gambling, gold and oil in stone,
Or maybe some of that homegrown.
Boredom broken by the poem
Words rolled up is how you’ll show ’em.
Watching clouds flow to the east,
Sitting high above the street,
Hearing birds fly by and tweet.
Dreaming about being flown,
With something and not alone,
To a mountain forest home.
Shaped up geodesic dome
High on air so filled with zest,
As i lay upon her breast.